


I'll be Superman

by rootbeer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rootbeer/pseuds/rootbeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was not the room of a teenage boy about to graduate from High School in a month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be Superman

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...that was depressing. Sorry about that but I had to write it.

                There is a window to Stiles’ room. The window locks from the inside by a small, white latch. It always opens with a familiar and unavoidable squeak—every time. The outside, just along the framing that’s nailed into the house, there are claw marks. Funny enough, the window often is used more than the door. The window is never actually locked.

                There is a drawer in Stiles’ room. In that drawer are folded up undergarments, shirts and pants for every member of the pack. Carefully set inside of the drawer is a heavy duty first-aid kit with items in it that no other kit would have. There are several extra mobile phones. Stuffed beneath the clothing is a credit card under an identity that doesn’t exist. Next to that there is a thick stack of crisp 100 dollar bills. In that drawer is a taser, a map, a few bottles of pain killers. It is within that drawer that the spare keys for the Jeep and the Camaro can be found.

                There is an air mattress in Stiles’ room. It is tucked beneath the frame of Stiles’ bed and looks uncomfortable, with blotchy blood stains across its surface. It smells like the woods and-–ironically, of wet dog. There is a duct tape patch on the left side where claw marks had once been. But it has a squishy pillow with a worn pillow case cover of wolves and moons and an old quilt draped along the mattress that is soft and warm and smells like pack.

                There is a calendar in Stiles’ room. Every full moon is circled in bright red marker. Every birthday is written in capital letters with blue. Every death anniversary is in a small, scrawled black. Every upcoming event is purple, for lacrosse games and science fairs. Every pack meeting is a bright orange; pack outings are yellow.

                There is a book shelf in Stiles’ room. Where the comic books once had been stacked high there are spell books, some in different languages. In the spot that had been reserved literature mostly with stupid action, it is now old lore with sticky notes and dog-eared pages that are squeezed along the wall. In place of the Doctor Who bobble head and Star Wars action figures there are photos of the pack with smiling faces.

                The truth is found all across the room. In place of the lacrosse gear that used to be in the far right corner of the room, there is a metal bat; it’s laced with wolfs bane and engraved with different symbols down along the edge. Instead of college applications, there are pack treaty drafts littered across the desk. There is a knife tucked beneath the pillow on the bed.

                Derek Hale stood there, right in the middle of a room that had become too familiar to him. He looked about, frowning and shaking his head. This was not the room of a teenage boy about to graduate from High School in a month. It makes Derek dizzy and sick and sad.

                Derek’s loft had been the place for pack meetings, the place for pizza night, the place for discussing strategy in fights, the place for training.

                But Stiles’ bedroom had been the refuge for each member of the pack, a place to hide from the rest of the world. It was a place that smelled and felt safe. The room was the first place a member ran when they were in trouble or confused. It was where late nights had been spent on researching the unknown. It was where people had broken down crying, searching for support. And it was where they found it.

                It never really registered that Stiles shouldn’t have had to be involved in anything, let alone be the center of it all. It had never occurred to Derek, not even as the last two years had gone by, how much Stiles had given up for them.

                Stiles had given up so much for them, little by little. He give up bits of his life so they didn’t have theirs ripped away from them. Stiles had given up everything for them.

                Derek’s ears stayed alert, as if subconsciously searching out Stiles’ heartbeat. Like Derek’s wolf didn’t want to be caught being sentimental and stupid. Derek’s eyes flickered downward instead.

 

_To Derek Hale_

_Alpha of the Beacon Hills Pack_

_Heir of the Hale Pack_

_And Sourwolf Supreme_

_Well, if you’re reading this it is because I didn’t make it. I'm really sorry, Derek. I like to think that I died heroically or at least honorably. But if I didn’t, lie and say I did._ _You’re probably wondering why I didn’t write this to my father or my best friend. You’re wondering that because you’re an idiot. You’re my alpha, and I need you to be strong for the others._

_Give my love to everyone and tell Scott that if he ever has a child that he is not allowed to name that child after me because no one deserves that. Scott is just kind and stupid enough to do it though, so what him. Keep an eye on my dad and don’t let him drink too much. He needs to keep eating healthy too. There is a batman action figure that I borrowed from Scott when we were 9 and never gave back to him in my closet; don’t tell him and bury me with it, will ya? It's a cool toy.The password to unlock my laptop is my first name—my real name, followed by the year my mother died, just in case you need to get into any of my research saved on there._

_Most of all, remember to take care of yourself. There are a lot of monsters out there in the dark, Derek. I won’t be around to remind you anymore, so remember you’re not one of them, okay? You’re a good Alpha, Derek and you’re going to be fine._

_See you on the other side buddy, just not too soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Superman_

_(B_ _ecause we both know you’re Batman and I’m no one’s Robin)_

 

                Derek’s claws were ripping out and his fangs were burying themselves into his lip and he fought to keep them back. But he was gentle with the letter, careful when he set it down and clenched his hands into fists. Stiles had always been prepared for anyting; for everything. Derek hadn't. Nothing could have prepared him for this. A smile was engraved in his brain, a laugh echoing in his ears, a comforting hand burning into his shoulder. He didn’t cry, just stared at the pictures of Stiles that were set on the shelves. He was always right beside Scott, even when the boy became a monster, Stiles had been there. Stiles had been there for everyone.

                He’d been willing to give up everything for them; and now, he had.

               


End file.
